Deoxys Returns: Brave New World
by Elliot Galloway
Summary: Young Camden Sherwood is about set off on his journey to complete the research on Pokemon from space his father had been doing with Professor Birch before his death. The road will not be easy; the Hoenn region is full of darkness and danger. But Cam must find the answer, for without the help of Deoxys, an asteroid will collide catastrophically with the planet. M for future chapters
1. Prologue

_A young boy sat in his father's lap, enjoying the warm sunlight of the summer afternoon. A large indigo turtle lounged beside them, fanning itself with its furry tail._

_"Hi Wartortle," said the child happily, extending his hand in an attempt to pet the Pokemon. Upon discovering that his arms were too short, the Wartortle stood up on its hind legs so that the boy could reach. He giggled in delight, patting the turtle's leathery head. The man watched, his eyes sad.  
_

_"Hey, son, listen. I'm going on a trip tomorrow," he said, pushing his round glasses up to the bridge of his nose. "I could be away for a while. Okay, Cam?"_

_The little boy blinked. "Where ya goin', dad?"_

_"I'm going to look for a special Pokemon," he explained gently. "It's a Pokemon that came from space. We call it Deoxys. I want to find it so that I can study it. But it's very, very hard to find, so it might take a long time."_

_"Can I come with you?" asked the child, his eyebrows furrowing as he attempted to come to terms with this turn of events._

_"No," he said, ruffling the boy's brown hair. "Sorry, sport. It might be dangerous. You have to stay here and help mom, okay?"_

_"Okay," Camden agreed quite passively. "Hey, dad?"_

_"Yeah, sport?"_

_"When I'm growed up, I wanna be a strong and smart Pokemon trainer like you! And I wanna study space, too, just like you!" He grinned a wide, open grin._

_The boy's father laughed. "Okay," he said. "Just like me."_

* * *

Author's Note: This story is rated M for violence and language in later chapters (it gets increasingly dark as time goes on), as well as some suggestive themes. If there is explicit sexual content, it will be separated from the rest of the story and appropriate warnings will be given; everything else is fair game. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy it!_  
_


	2. The Birthday Gift

Camden shook his head, as if this motion would rid his mind of the memory. He hadn't seen his father in nine years, and those dreams had long been beyond his grasp. And – he had to focus on the matters at hand.

The rat hissed at him, its sharp incisors bared. Its wiry purple fur bristled at the touch of his leather-gloved fingers, and its red eyes were fixed on his face. Cam offered him a treat, but with a suspicious twitch of its whiskers and a flail of its curled tail, the Rattata refused.

"Shh," he cooed. "It's alright. I'm not going to hurt you."

But there was no response, except for more sneering and spitting. The rat would not be persuaded. Camden sighed and brought himself up to his feet. He had worked at the Day Care center for nearly nine years, and he was now experienced in breeding and raising Pokemon. He could tell when a Pokemon was done for the day, and this Rattata was done.

With the annual Beginner's Tournament being only a day away, the Day Care center was unusually calm. Normally, trainers would be arriving in droves, hoping to some last-minute training or any morsel of advice that could give them an edge. Yet, Cam found himself busy handling a young trainer's Rattata, who had probably been plucked from the wild just hours before; surely not competition-ready, even for the Beginner's Tournament.

The quiet was alright by him, anyway. Today was Cam's fifteenth birthday, and he was looking forward to going home early and getting a home-cooked meal from his mother. She was normally too busy to cook family dinners, having to support both Camden and his younger brother Ethan on her own, but for birthdays she went the extra mile. He smiled, just thinking about the mouthwatering meal that surely awaited him.

"Camden, dear!" called his grandmother, known to most as the Day Care Lady. "Come inside."

He took one last look at the cranky Rattata and obliged. Inside the Day Care center, a crate of at least sixty Pokeballs sat atop a sturdy wooden table. Inside each was a starter Pokemon, raised especially by his grandparents for young trainers. Professor Birch, once a friend of his father's, would be taking them back to his lab after the Beginner's Tournament. The Professor himself, a world-renowned researcher was supervising the event.

His grandmother was sweeping the cheerily blue-tiled floor in preparation for the Professor's arrival. "Oh, Cam, there you are," she said brightly. "Have a seat. Your grandpa has a surprise for you."

Camden nodded and dutifully sat at the wooden table, squinting over the edge of the crate to see the Pokeballs inside. He himself had helped to raise these Pokemon. It was hard, sometimes, not to get attached to them; he had no Pokemon of his own at home, and his mother wouldn't allow it, after the way his father had died. He blinked and looked away. His father had loved Pokemon, too.

Suddenly, the door flew open. On the other side stood his grandpa and the Professor.

"We're here," announced the old man, with a grin. He stepped inside and kicked off his shoes, motioning for the Professor to do the same.

"Welcome," said Camden's grandma politely.

"Thank you! And thanks once again for raising the Pokemon for me. You two are lifesavers." Professor Birch made grand, sweeping gestures as he spoke. His graying hair and beard were a bit unkempt, but his eyes shone with energy and intelligence inside his absent-mindedly vacant expression. "Ah! You must be Camden! Your grandfather's told me all about you."

At this, Cam was surprised. "Nice to meet you, Professor," he affirmed.

"And you, as well, of course… now, I understand that today is your birthday, young man. Is that so?"

The boy nodded, fidgeting excitedly. Part of him hoped that the Professor would give him one of the Pokemon. He knew it was possible – the Professor was free to distribute them as he liked. But the other part hoped that he wouldn't offer, because even if he did, he was sure that his mother wouldn't allow him to keep it.

Still, his heart beat rapidly in his chest as he awaited the verdict.

"Well, then, it's the least I can do to offer you one of the Pokemon you helped to raise. You've earned it." Professor Birch smiled and offered him the crate. "You may pick any one you like."

Camden looked towards his grandfather for guidance. The old man winked, still grinning. Cam knew what that meant: the Pokemon could be their secret.

Quickly, he mulled through his collection of knowledge about the Pokemon. There were fifteen different starter Pokemon… which one should he pick? One in particular immediately came to mind. He searched through the pile for a Pokeball labeled with the Pokemon he wanted. He found it near the bottom of the box.

Professor Birch watched expectantly. "Well? Come on then, show us!"

The boy nodded and tossed the Pokeball into the air. There was a red flash and a small blue turtle materialized, its mouth open in wonder. It squeaked inquisitively and turned towards Camden. Indeed, they were already acquainted. They had battled together before. Cam smiled.

"I see," said the Professor, rubbing his beard. He continued, perhaps talking to himself aloud: "A Squirtle. Usually a docile Pokemon – you two look like a good match…"

Camden kneeled down beside the Pokemon. "Hello," he said. "We've met before, but, I'm Camden. I'd like to be your trainer, if that's okay with you."

Squirtle nodded happily and reached out towards its trainer. Cam laughed and shook its paw. From then on, they would be partners.

The Professor chuckled too. "That's not all," he said. "I'm here to give you this." He stretched out his arm and offered the boy a rectangular device. It was metallic blue color, and a large screen took up most of the front. "It's a Pokedex – slide it open!"

He took it, and when he slid the device open, the screen turned on. In a mechanical voice, it spoke: "Registration number 4205631. Please place thumb on scanner identification."

On the bottom half of the device, which had previously been covered by the screen, there were a series of white buttons with black trim – the color scheme of it reminded him of an Azumarill – and a thumbprint-sized box. He dutifully did as the machine instructed.

The box lit up green for a moment. Then, the Pokedex spoke again: "Identified Camden Sherwood. Fifteen years old. Verdanturf Town. Press Yes or No."

Camden pressed the button labeled "Yes". The screen then changed to another one, asking him to point the device at his Pokemon. Squirtle was watching the process, its ruby-red eyes fixed on its trainer. Camden turned so the Pokedex was facing his Pokemon.

"Identified Squirtle," the machine said after a moment, and once again Camden was prompted to press Yes.

"Congratulations," said the Pokedex. "You are now a registered Trainer. You are eligible to battle in gyms, tournaments, and events officially sanctioned by the Pokemon League."

"Are you going to enter the tournament tomorrow?" asked the Professor.

Camden was about to explain that his mother wouldn't allow it, but before he could, his grandfather answered for him. "Of course," he said. "Aren't you, Cam?"

"Right!" the boy said, stowing the Pokedex in his pocket. He picked up Squirtle in one arm. The turtle didn't seem to mind being held. "What do you think, Squirtle?"

Squirtle grunted affirmatively. They still had a lot of work to do getting to know each other before the tournament, but it seemed like it would be good practice.

"Remember, Pokemon battles can be dangerous," said his grandmother, who had been waiting quietly next with his grandfather behind the counter. "Be careful, okay?"

"Okay," Camden replied. "Careful, like always." Squirtle nodded in agreement.

The old man smiled. "Happy birthday, Camden."

His grandmother looked worried. "Please don't overexert yourself," she said, unable to find anything else. "Be careful – remember, Pokemon battles can be dangerous."

"I will," said Cam. "I promise. Careful, as always." His eyes flickered as he recalled his father once more.

Professor Birch, having sensed the tension in the room, let out an awkward, nervous chuckle. "So," he said, "the Beginner's Tournament. You'd better get some rest before tomorrow!"

"Right. You best be getting home," said Camden's grandfather. "It's getting late – your mother will worry." He paused. "Would you like to leave Squirtle here…?"

"No," Camden replied curtly. "I'll take him with me." He pressed the button to maximize the Pokeball and pointed it at Squirtle. In another flash – this time with white light – it automatically pulled him back inside.

As he walked the stretch of Route 117 from the Day Care center to his home in Verdanturf Town, he thought about his father. Then he thought about the Squirtle in his pocket, and he knew one thing: with Squirtle's help, he would do what his father never could.


	3. The Old Man's Verdict

When Camden arrived home, the smell of a roast and gravy greeted him, although food was no longer the first thing on his mind. His mother was a practical, hard-working woman; she took no nonsense, though. When she appeared from beyond the kitchen of their small, one-story house, Camden began to feel anxious. _Should I tell her?_ He didn't know. She would find out tomorrow anyway. But if she barred him from participating in the Tournament…

"You look more like your father each day," said the middle-aged woman, eying her son as she set the table. "Act more like him, too."

"Mom," Camden said abruptly, unable to contain his thoughts, "I'm entering the tournament tomorrow."

She sighed, running one thin hand through her tangled black hair. "Camden Sherwood, we've been through this. It's too dangerous. I don't want you battling Pokemon. That's why I want you to work with your grandparents. You can be a Pokemon breeder like them. They say you're very talented."

"Yeah, but—"

"No buts. I won't have my son battling Pokemon." Her eyes hardened. "Remember what happened to your father. He got himself killed over Pokemon."

A tense silence filled the room. "Besides," she added, her tone slightly less pointed, "You don't even have a Pokemon."

"I do now." Camden took Squirtle's Pokeball out of his pocket and maximized it. It's a special Pokemon. From Professor Birch."

He tossed the Pokeball into the air, and Squirtle appeared by his side, looking quite pointedly at Camden's mother. "He's totally domestic, and he's still practically a baby," said Cam. "He can't fend for himself in the wild." Squirtle nodded in agreement.

The woman signed, looking at him with her hands on her hips. Her lips were pressed into a thin, hard line. "Alright," she said. "Since he's a gift from the Professor… you can keep him. Because it's your birthday. But I still won't allow you to battle in a tournament."

She seemed like she might continue, but she was interrupted by a knock on the door, which she swiftly left to answer. A moment later she walked back in with Camden's grandfather. The old man cleared his throat and stood solidly in the middle of the kitchen.

"Cam is very much his father's son," he said, his words picked with care. "You see, at your request, I encouraged him to raise Pokemon… and he is very gifted in this respect. But competition is a vital part of raising Pokemon." His gaze turned to the boy's mother. "You see, Pokemon are naturally very competitive… battles for sport are a healthy and constructive way for them to follow their natural instincts and please their human masters simultaneously. Pokemon who battle become easier to handle, and are particularly well-mannered…"

His voice trailed off for a moment. The old man was obviously about to deliver his verdict as the elder of the family.

"I want Cam to enter the Tournament tomorrow," he proclaimed with a nod. "I promise you it's safe – it's sanctioned by the Pokemon League, too."

"Alright," Camden's mother said at last, frowning, but too polite to argue with the older man. It was traditional in Hoenn for the oldest male of the family to have the final say, and she was powerless against it. "If you want to take responsibility for him."

"Come on," said Camden's grandpa, now smiling at his grandson. "Let's go outside and have a practice battle."

Squirtle leaped off the table and scurried out the door after the old man, its tail wagging happily behind him. Cam could only follow.

* * *

A sweet breeze blew through the expanse of grasslands outside Verdanturf town. Camden stood about a hundred feet from his grandfather, while his mother looked on with cold and critical eyes. In his hand, Camden grasped tightly his sole Pokeball.

"I borrowed another one of the starter Pokemon from Professor Birch," the old man said. "Just for today." He held up a Pokeball, as if to illustrate his point. "And if you can beat me, I have a prize for you."

Camden wondered what kind of Pokemon was in that Pokeball. What would his grandfather pick, knowing that his only option was Squirtle, a water-type. Would he purposely try to give Cam the advantage, and pick a fire-type? Or…

"Let's begin," announced his grandfather, after what seemed like several long moments. "Go, Bulbasaur!"

He threw the Pokeball into the fray, and on the battlefield appeared a small reptilian creature with a bulb growing out of its back. Its blue-green scales shimmered in the dying sunlight.

So that was his game, Cam realized. He purposely picked a Pokemon that would give him an advantage! In response (and with no alternative) he shouted "Squirtle!" and released the turtle Pokemon from his Pokeball. The Bulbasaur opposing them growled menacingly, but Squirtle did not back down.

"You can move first," offered the old man, and Camden obliged.

Without hesitation, he commanded, "Tackle!"

Squirtle nodded and, with great energy, barreled forth into a full-body tackle. He struck Bulbasaur in the side. The grass-type merely shook off the blow, leaving Squirtle stranded in a poor position.

Shit, Camden mouthed. His Pokemon seemed to have realized this as well, but had no time to retreat; the next wave of attack was already imminently upon them.

"Gotcha," remarked Cam's grandfather playfully. "Leech seed!"

A number of spores shot out of Bulbasaur's bulb and wafted through the air, aiming to make contact with Squirtle. But the seeds were slow – and Squirtle's hard shell would deflect them. He had to react as quickly as possible. "Use withdraw now! Don't let those seeds touch you!"

Squirtle, remaining attentive, managed to pull all its limbs into its shell before being seeded. "Bubble!" ordered the young trainer.

Before those orders could be carried out, his grandfather calmly retorted: "Grab it with Vine Whip and throw it into the air."

In a flurry of action, bubbles began shooting out of Squirtle's shell in every direction – and yet none of the bubbles met their mark, for Squirtle had been hoisted into the air by vines from Bulbasaur's back.

Having foreseen what was coming, Cam shouted, "Look out! Stay in your shell and use bubble at the ground!"

He knew the force of bubble would not be enough to save Squirtle from being thrown into the ground, but he hoped it would cushion his fall. Perhaps it did, but the impact still left scars of bare dirt in the once-grassy meadow.

But Squirtle, while clearly dazed, was still standing once he came back out of his shell. Still, this wasn't looking very good; none of their attacks had much effect on Bulbasaur, and Squirtle wouldn't last too much longer.

He had to think quickly. Perhaps… well, it was worth a try. None of the Pokemon at the day care had mastered an attack this advanced, but, just maybe… maybe he could figure it out. "Water gun!"

All in one fluid movement, the turtle glanced back at its trainer and nodded. He inhaled, and on the release a jet of water was expelled from its mouth. The force was so great compared to Squirtle's size that he himself was blasted backwards.

The attack struck the obviously surprised Bulbasaur head-on. The dinosaur was knocked to the ground. Cam counted in his head: one, two, three…

"Return," called his grandfather before the mental countdown had even finished. The tired Bulbasaur went without a fight. "Good job. Come to the Day Care before the tournament tomorrow to get your prize." Cam saw a familiar twinkle in the old man's eye and knew this had been his plan all along.


	4. The Mysterious Trainer

Cam arrived at his grandparents' place bright and early. Squirtle walked behind him, apparently glad to be free of his Pokeball; Cam saw no reason to put him back in it, but he felt as if he should be interacting with it somehow. The problem was, he wasn't sure what to say. He'd never actually had his own Pokemon before, and there had always been a clear and concrete goal when he worked with the Pokemon at the Day Care. Now that it was up to him, he just wasn't quite sure. He didn't even know if the Pokemon fully understood human language.

"So," he mused as they waited by the door, "You came from another region, right?"

Squirtle nodded, seeming to understand him. The scrapes and bruises from the previous day's battle were completely gone; Cam couldn't help but marvel at the speed with which Pokemon healed.

"Do you like battles?" he asked, curious. "If you don't – I mean, you don't have to do anything you don't want to, really. I won't force you to."

But Squirtle nodded again, and as if to show his commitment, fired his newly-learned water gun attack at a nearby rock. It shattered into pieces and crumbled into the mud.

Cam grinned. "Well then, if that's how you feel, we should aim to win today," he said. In response, Squirtle ran about in a circle, waving its arms excitedly, and the trainer couldn't help but laugh.

Finally, the door opened and the boy's grandfather appeared on its other side. "Ah, there you are," he said in greeting. "Oh, and Squirtle too! Come in, come in."

They entered the familiar house and sat down at the lone wooden table. The old man went behind the counter and took out a large case from within, bringing it to the table and setting it down before the young trainer.

"This is a case of all the Technical Machines I've collected," said Cam's grandfather. "Each one will teach a move to your Pokemon. Some of them used to belong to your father. As a reward for our battle yesterday, I'd like you to have one. You can pick whichever you like."

He unhitched the latch and the case sprung open to reveal several rows chock full of small discs in every color. Cam gazed at them for a moment, his mouth falling open in awe; he'd never even known this was here! Then he started ruffling through them, perusing his options. He wanted a move that Squirtle could learn, of course. Toxic… protect… brick break…

Carefully, he chose one. The disc was translucent and cyan-blue, almost like glass. The printed label read "TM13 – Ice Beam". He showed it to Squirtle; the Pokemon nodded approvingly.

"I've never used one of these before," he admitted as he handed it to his grandfather.

"Well, it's simple," said the old man, rubbing the back of his head. "Insert it into the Pokedex, and it will tell you what to do."

Cam took the blue device out of his pocket. He hadn't used it since receiving it the day before; in fact, he hadn't even known there was a TM slot. The disc wasn't much bigger than a quarter, so he'd probably just missed it.

Lo and behold, he found such a slot on the right side, under the slide-out screen; it could only be accessed when the Pokedex was off. He inserted the TM13 and opened the Pokedex.

Immediately, it said in its electronic voice, "TM13 Ice Beam identified. Which Pokemon would you like to learn this move?"

He pointed the device at Squirtle, who looked around uncertainly. A blue light scanned him. Then, almost as if he was being absorbed into a Pokeball, the turtle turned into blue light – but the light didn't go anywhere, it simply stayed. Then, as quick as it had started, it was over.

"Squirtle learned Ice Beam," the Pokedex confirmed.

"Do you… feel any different?" asked Cam skeptically.

Squirtle blinked, looking a bit unsure of himself. He inhaled as if he were going to use water gun; this time, though, a beam of ice came out, and a teapot on the table shattered into bits. A pile of dust was left on the floor.

Before Cam could say anything, his grandfather said quite dismissively, "Oh, that's okay." He waved his hand as if sweeping the issue away.

"Well, uh, we better get going," the trainer replied, his voice apologetic nonetheless. Squirtle was quiet, looking a bit embarrassed.

"Right, best be on your way! Your grandmother and I will be there later to watch, of course…" his voice trailed off. "Well, Cam… good luck."

"I'll do my best," Camden said.

* * *

Verdanturf town had always been known for its clean air and good health, but its single biggest tourist attraction was the Battle Tent. The stadium had grown over the years, being a popular stop for trainers on their way through Mauville, especially those who were challenging the Mauville Gym.

Today, though, was a special tournament for rookie trainers with only one Pokemon. When Cam arrived at the Battle Tent – which was more of a small stadium than a tent now – at least thirty other novice trainers were sitting there waiting. Some sat fidgeting nervously in their seats, others talked to their Pokemon, and a few were outside battling already. Cam knew it was best to save Squirtle's energy for the real tournament.

A friendly receptionist walked over to him. "Are you entering the Beginner's Tournament today?" she asked, almost mechanically.

"Yeah," replied Camden.

"I just need your Pokedex," said the receptionist, holding out one uniformed arm.

He handed it over. The woman put it into a machine, which lit up green and displayed _Camden Sherwood_ on a screen.

"Looks like this your first tournament. Would you mind stepping over here? It's regulation to have a photo for future identification."

This took Cam by surprise: he hadn't expected photographs to be taken today. He gave a cursory glance over himself – a blue sweater with reinforced arm patches over a plaid button-up, gray trousers, leather boots, fingerless gloves, sling backpack, and a standard Pokeball belt. Good enough. He quickly combed through his chocolate-colored hair with his fingers and stood in front of the white background.

As he stood and waited for his photo to be taken, he noticed a dark-haired trainer looking at him from across the room. He stared back for a moment, but their eye contact was broken by the flash of the camera.

"That's all," commented the receptionist with a nearly saccharine smile. "Round one pairings will be up shortly."

Cam smiled politely back and took his Pokedex back from the woman. When he looked again across the room, the dark-haired trainer was gone.


	5. Vs Youngster!

Camden sat on one of the thinly-cushioned couches that adorned the reception room, waiting for the pairings to appear on the huge wall-mounted screen. He found his eyes wandering about the room, scoping out the competition. Rookies from all over Hoenn had gathered here for their chance at a jump-start. The prize: a rare and valuable Pokemon.

Nobody knew what the Pokemon would be – it varied from year to year. The buzz around the room was that last year's prize had been a champion-pedigreed Growlithe. This year, they figured, perhaps a Vulpix…

Cam was curious to know what kind of Pokemon there was, but he wanted to win, regardless. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes for a moment, holding Squirtle's Pokeball tightly in his hand.

"Hey!" a kid shouted, abruptly rousing him from his thoughts. He was pointing squarely at Cam. "Hey, I know you!"

"Do you?" Cam replied dryly. The boy was young – perhaps ten years old – and had an air of arrogance about him.

"Yeah! You're the kid who works at the Day Care. You trained my Rattata!"

The older trainer blinked. Indeed, he recognized the Rattata standing behind the youngster as the one he had been working with at the Day Care yesterday. That thing had been all but feral. Now it was hooked up to a steel-link leash, trying to chew its way free, but to no avail; its gums looked red and raw from the desperate gnawing. The young trainer didn't even seem to notice his Pokemon's struggle.

"Right," muttered Cam. "That's me."

Before the youngster could respond, there was a mechanical _bing_ announcing the pairings were now being displayed. To his chagrin, he saw that his opponent was this very same youngster.

"Ha! Sorry, looks like you're gonna be losing in round one. My Rattata is the strongest Rattata ever!" boasted the boy.

Camden didn't respond. "See you on the field," he said, bringing himself to his feet and walking out into the stadium before the youngster could follow.

Bright sunlight immediately greeted him, as well as the boom of an announcer over the loudspeakers. "All of today's matches will be one-on-one. All Pokemon are unevolved and only trainers in their first year are eligible," explained the announcer.

He repeated those lines several more times as the stadium filled with spectators. Compared to most league-sanctioned tournaments, the turnout was modest; but most tournaments were packed, so that wasn't saying much. On the ground of the stadium, there were six small fields one after another, each labeled with red and blue corners. A large screen, not unlike the one in the reception room, stood parallel to each field. Cam found his spot at red six, and the youngster positioned himself at blue six shortly after.

Now the judges were taking their place, sitting on a raised platform behind blue three. Cam noticed the dark-haired trainer from before sitting among them.

The head judge stood and the stadium went quiet. "Today," he announced, "We have six judges – one for each field – and, last year's victor, Tyler Mattson!"

Tyler Mattson stood, a few pieces of his dark hair falling into his eyes. He was tall and lithe, probably about seventeen years old. He surveyed the field with a sharp amber gaze and waved at the crowd, which broke into applause. Then he sat and they grew quiet again.

"Now, the rules are as follows: one on one with no substitutions, unevolved Pokemon only, standard banned moves," the judge continued, "For the safety of the combatants: no sheer cold, fissure, guillotine, or horn drill." He adjusted his glasses, looking around to make sure all the competitors understood. "Now, the winner of each match will be determined by points. When you run out of points, which will be shown on the screen, you lose. This is also to protect the safety of the Pokemon."

As he said it, the screens came to life. Each had a picture of the trainers and the Pokemon they would be battling with. Under the pictures was a green bar labeled _health points_. The six judges began making their way to their assigned places.

"Are we ready to begin?" said the head judge, and the crowd cheered.

The judge assigned to field six gave a curt nod to both Cam and the youngster, whose name was Dylan. He held a blue flag in one hand and a red one in the other. "Send out your Pokemon," he instructed.

Camden held up Squirtle's Pokeball, and the turtle materialized on the field in front of him. He growled eagerly at the Rattata, who had been released from its chains on the other side; but the rat looked around in confusion, its whiskers twitching as it looked for a way to escape.

Then the judge raised both flags and shouted "Begin!"

"Squirtle! Use water gun!" commanded Cam.

"Quick attack!" Dylan shouted from the other side.

The rat still seemed shocked. It acted as if it hadn't even heard its trainer – and, in fat, hadn't noticed the blast of water hurting towards it until it was too late. Frantically, it tried to dart away, but it was still grazed by the attack. On the screen, its health points dropped.

"What are you doing?!" Dylan demanded. "I told you to use quick attack!"

Instead, in retaliation, Rattata rushed towards Squirtle, bearing its formidable fangs. Cam recognized this as a bite attack.

"Use ice beam at its mouth!" he ordered.

Rattata's jaws were open wide, ready to clamp down on its opponent. But Squirtle unleashed the ice beam at a remarkable speed: the rat was blown backwards into the dirt, icicles forming in its mouth. Red oozed from its gums and it whimpered in pain as its precious jaw spasmed uselessly, frozen.

Its health points bar dropped to zero.

"Stop!" called the judge. He raised the red flag towards Cam. "Rattata is unable to battle! The winner is Camden Sherwood!"

"What?!" stammered the defeated youngster, irate. He flailed his arms in protest. His mouth moved faster and faster and he processed the loss. "No way! No – he cheated! He must have sabotaged my Rattata at the Day Care yesterday! Judge! Judge!"

But the judge had already walked off – probably trying to avoid this situation, Cam realized. But Dylan wasn't done.

"You made me lose!" he shouted, now running across the field to Cam. He ignored his crying Rattata. "Hey, you! What did you do to my Rattata?!"

"I didn't do anything to it," Cam spat. "It's practically wild. No way it was ready to battle today. It hardly even knows who you are!"

Now someone else was sauntering across the field, his eyes smoldering. Cam recognized the figure as the dark-haired trainer.

"My Rattata is the strongest—"

He was interrupted by a tap on the shoulder. Dylan whirled around to find none other than Tyler Mattson standing there. Then he swung his arm and, with a decisive crack, the youngster collapsed to the ground, blood pouring out of his nose.


End file.
